


Make Your Mark

by ArtemisRae



Category: Percy Jackson and the Olympians & Related Fandoms - All Media Types
Genre: F/M, Ignores Heroes of Olympus, Out of Canon, Post TLO, and any revelations about Nico's character, it was just written way before, not on purpose
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-06-26
Updated: 2011-06-26
Packaged: 2017-12-31 23:50:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 370
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1037856
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ArtemisRae/pseuds/ArtemisRae
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Rachel breaks camp tradition</p>
            </blockquote>





	Make Your Mark

**Author's Note:**

> Written for 31 Days, prompt: Only purity can't be seen

Camp tradition generally dictates that tables in the dining pavilion are separated by cabin, and that campers eat with their siblings at their assigned tables with no exceptions. Being the Oracle means that Rachel usually sits at the head table with Chiron, though she has taken liberties with this technicality and sat with Percy before, or even squeezed into the Athena table to discuss Capture the Flag strategies. She doesn’t do it often though, because people tend to stare when she does and that can ruin any element of surprise later on during the game.  
  
People are staring at her today, however, and it has nothing to do with where she’s sitting.  
  
She’s pretty good at this Oracle gig; she’s been at it for a couple of years now and it’s not too hard. She enjoys her summers, and it’s an excuse not to take any summer classes even though her father would _love_ for her to get her degree early so she can get on to grad school already. Her one complaint would be the whole Virgin thing – it’s not that difficult, in theory, but then she spends most of her days watching sweaty boys in armor battle, and there is the tiniest amount of wistfulness, knowing that they’re all off limits.  
  
Mostly, anyway.  
  
She glances up and makes eye contact with Percy, who gives her a wide smirk. Annabeth refuses to meet her gaze, but Malcolm, sitting next to Annabeth, raises an eyebrow in question. She knows there’ll be a betting pool by the end of the day, and though she can count the number of times she’s felt self-conscious in her entire life on a single hand, she still nervously adjusts the collar of her shirt. The mark on her neck feels like a brand, too hot against the rest of her skin, a beacon attracting everyone’s attention.  
  
There will be questions later, she knows. First and foremost: _who?_  
  
For now, however, she reaches for her glass and looks down at her plate. Sneaking a look over to the lonely table where Nico’s eating his dinner, his back turned to her, she wonders how long she can distract them from the marks he’s hiding under his collar.


End file.
